A/N: I have become too gay and have subsequently ascended. This is the result.

This story is set in the Fitting In-verse, but technically doesn't need the other stories to make sense. All you need to know to read it so far is: it's an all-human AU, with this particular chapter set two years before the events of most of the series. Will is my take on Willow's design from the beta concept art, and is canon Willow's older sibling. Beta versions of Amity and Luz (Amelia and Lucia) will show up later.

Enjoy!


Eda hates meetings with her kids' parents with all her heart and soul.

They're bad enough when they're the standard parent-teacher conferences, where she has to string together vaguely nice-sounding adjectives that boil down to "doing okay, but should keep studying" for half an hour. Meetings when kids have screwed up are worse, because most parents would rather believe that she's literally Satan than that their precious spawn could possibly have flunked a test.

The worst meetings of all, however, are meetings that take place before the school year officially starts. Eda has had a sum total of one of those meetings so far, and she's currently sitting at her desk and waiting for the second meeting, dreading everything.

The first meeting, last year, she'd been a rookie with two years of teaching under her belt (she started late because she spent all of her twenties partying and trying to bring down capitalism, sue her). Half of the PTA, led by the one and only Odalia Blight, had showed up and politely informed Eda that she should take down the pride flag hung up in her classroom. They used a lot of phrases like "just not appropriate around the children" and "shouldn't bring your personal life into the classroom". That bitch Terra who teaches biology had agreed with them, and even Bump himself had said that upsetting the biggest donors to the school might not be a great idea.

Eda left the flag up. She bought three more flags, and put those up too, one on her door so everyone in the hallway could see it too. Just to spite the PTA, she put in big letters on her office door, her profile on the school website, and her Facebook page that she was the "official school liaison for all LGBT-related issues". And this year she's starting a GSA.

She's also panicking a little bit, because she got a very polite email two days ago requesting a meeting, from a parent she doesn't know. Of course, knowing the right way to use a semicolon does not a tolerant person make, and she's prepared for all manner of pointless homophobia. But Eda agreed to the meeting, because it's school policy never to refuse a meeting with the parents.

The door opens slowly, and a middle-aged man with a beard steps in. Eda sizes him up. He's got that mediocre middle-aged man aura, which could really go either way on the homophobia. Eda has an inch or two on him in her heels, which makes her feel good.

Another man enters the classroom behind the first. He's taller and thinner, with wire-rimmed glasses. Eda squints at their left hands, and spots a pair of matching rings.

Well, homophobia shouldn't be an issue.

The kid who enters behind them looks intimidated, but not in a getting-abused way, just in a talking-to-the-teacher way. Eda's very good at reading kids' emotions. The kid has round glasses that cover half their face and a green pixie cut, and they look like the kind who will be reluctant at first, then really get into blowing stuff up. Kids like that are the best chemistry students.

"Welcome," Eda says. "Take a seat!" She gestures broadly at the rows of tiny desks. None of them sit down.

"I'm Gilbert Park, and this is my husband, Harvey, and your new student," Glasses says, smiling slightly and extending his hand.

"Edalyn Clawthorne, but everyone calls me Eda," Eda says enthusiastically, then shakes Gilbert's hand, trying to convey I'm one of you through the gesture. Judging by Gilbert's vaguely confused expression, it doesn't work.

"So, what's the reason for the meetin'? Questions about the class?"

"Not really," Harvey says. He seems less comfortable than Gilbert and keeps on glancing at the kid. "Sweetheart, you want to explain it?"

The kid nods. If they were scared before, they now look full-on terrified. They stare at their shoes for a second before raising their chin to meet Eda's eyes. It's a strain, since they're very short.

"I'm nonbinary, I go by Will, and I use they/them pronouns," they say in a rush, then start staring at their feet again.

"Oh, terrific! I've always wanted a cool one-syllable name. You got it, kiddo." Eda leans back on her desk and flashes a grin and a finger gun at Will.

This display of being totally cool with it doesn't seem to impress them. Will shuffles their feet awkwardly.

"We were – hoping for a little more information, actually?" Gilbert says. "Since you are the liaison on LGBT issues for the school."

"Can we get their chosen name listed in the roster, things like that," Harvey adds.

"Oh, right! Of course! Official LGBT liaison, that's me. I'm like an ambassador, but for the gays. So, uh, let me pull up the roster and see what I can do."

Eda is not supposed to be modifying the roster. The teachers are not supposed to modify the roster at all. There's a process for modifying the roster, which involves filling out sixteen different forms, delivering them all to Kikimora, the school secretary, and waiting a few months until she bothers to process the forms.

Eda does not particularly care about forms and processes. She scans down the roster of incoming students for the last name Park, and when she finds it erases the listed first name and writes in Will. She adds a note after.

Student uses they/them pronouns! Respect them or get your car egged!

Bump likes to call her particular brand of helping the students guerrilla warfare, and he may not be wrong.

Eda spins her computer around triumphantly to show them, and Will breaks into a smile so wide that she's surprised it fits on their face.

"Thank you so much," Will says.

"No problem, kiddo. Two more things." Eda rummages around in her desk for the spare keys, ignoring the weird looks she's getting from all three of them. "The school doesn't officially have gender-neutral restrooms, so here's the key to the staff restroom. Don't use it for evil," she adds with a wink.

Will manages to look like they'd never consider using the key for evil. Or maybe they'd just genuinely never consider using the key for evil. Who knows. Kids these days are weird. If Eda had access to a staff restroom back when she was in high school, there would've been so much graffiti you couldn't see the walls.

"And when you take bio, make sure you get Eber. Snapdragon is a bi- she's a bit old-fashioned," Eda corrects herself. Calling other teachers bitches doesn't go over well with the parents, no matter how true it is.

Will nods, looking like Eda's every word is gospel.

"Thank you," they say again, almost reverently.

"Yes, thank you so much," Gilbert says. "We weren't sure what welcome to expect, especially after their middle school wasn't very accepting, and you've been nothing but wonderful. We should probably head out, but thank you for your time."

"Wait, one last thing!" Eda calls when they're already halfway to the door, and Will turns around.

"We have GSA meetings every Thursday at four, right here. Stop by sometime!"

"I will," Will says, and then the door clicks shut.

Eda drops down into her swivel chair and spins with a whoop of glee. One whole GSA member already, and three more angry emails from Kikimora no doubt making their way to her inbox right now, about how giving away keys to the school to students is actually a felony or something. It's been a productive day.